Consumer Regret: Disentangling Identity and Ownership in Taurean Times
The Taurus Scorpio Axis, the Plague of Consumption, and the Trauma of Scarcity
I've held so many items in my hands and declared "this is it."
"This is what makes me a new person."
It might be a metaphysical tool, a beautiful crystal or a new tarot deck.
It might be cosmetic, an eyeshadow palette or a new dress.
But each and every one of these items now sits in my tiny New York apartment. Some see fairly regular use but many don't have a designated space, simply moved from surface to surface as I attempt to navigate my daily life in the space between. And now, as I pack my life into boxes and prepare to re-root myself hundreds of miles from the home I've made, I can hardly contain my anger and regret.
Because of course the truth is none of these objects changed me. Aside from a rush of temporary joy or even just momentary convenience, all that changed was the space available in my home. If anything, the accumulation of things made my life worse--it drained my bank accounts, it made my living space smaller, and it brought tension to my relationship.
In a way I suppose these things did change who I am.
By allowing physical objects to define me, my identity became that of a messy, chaotic person. My surroundings were too cluttered to keep up with and as the thick dust of my industrial apartment collected, so too did my disappointment. Far from the vibrant, exciting person I thought these things would make me--the quirky, fun girl whose personality shined through her collection of interesting and beautiful things--they became an anchor that kept me stuck in a cycle of anxiety and self-loathing.
When we purchased our home last autumn, we knew we had several months before we could occupy the space fully. It was perfect--we could take our time packing and bringing things out, avoid the stress and expense of moving in a hurry...but each time I picked up an object to pack it away I was overwhelmed. At best, I remembered who I was supposed to be through that object, a person I never became. At worst, I saw a representation of a part of myself I desperately tried to escape. And with that realization my energy was sapped and I'd slink away in defeat.
It turns out the person I am through my things operates under crushing last-minute pressure. As we close in on our last few weeks in New York I have no choice but to face my demons.
It's no longer a matter of who my belongings make me--disentangling my identity from my things is now a matter of survival.
I know this is part of my karmic struggle. I come from a long line of consumers and savers, hoarders reacting against trauma acquired through crop failure in their homelands and later the Great Depression. My ancestors felt a responsibility to own things, to play their part in the charade of wealth in order to feel prosperous--and accepted--in new home. They felt abandoned by their land and turned instead to the promise of abundance through industrialization. Their children and grandchildren traded their relationships with the earth for a piece of the American pie.
But pie is not a balanced diet.
We rarely stop to consider the implications of consumption in other areas of life. Far from the days when our investment in the environment assured our survival, the time and energy we invest in the exchange of goods and services now actively harm the world around us.
When the nodal axis shifted into Taurus and Scorpio, I anticipated the focus on resource. Taurus has been home to Uranus since 2018 bringing massive change in areas where we crave stability. The concepts of food, currency, and work are in flux while millions of people across the world reconsider what it means to make a living. New technologies promise advancements in nutrient bioavailability and the environmental impact of human diets. Cryptocurrencies open people's eyes to the possibility of decentralized finances, revealing just how strange and fluid the banking system really is. But with the North Node now sharing space, we begin to see another side of this equation. Instead of simply looking for progress, we're encouraged to ask why.
It's not enough to simply change the way we express these energies. It's not enough to simply follow the current and develop the technologies. We need to ask what good they actually achieve and what their long term implications are.
Taurus is not a sign known for its progressive nature. As Fixed Earth it governs some of life's greatest necessities, areas where we require stability and security. Here we find issues of nourishment, shelter, and growth, but also the pleasure we derive through them. It's the food we eat, the way we provide for ourselves and our families, the way we conceive and gestate the next generation. But Taurus also carries a sense of immediacy. The classic cliché of stubbornness is not borne of strategy--it's a sense of presence, living so fully within the "now" that it becomes difficult to see just where the future leads.
Without that foresight it's difficult to separate needs from desires.
Taurus is ruled by Venus, the planet of love and money. Add it all up and you find that Taurus speaks directly to indulgence and luxury as well. Lower Taurus vibrations often express in hoarding and consumption disorders: overspending, living outside one's means, unfulfilling or thoughtless coupling, and calorie-dense, nutritionally-deficient diets are all symptoms of unchecked Taurean influence.
The truth is that all of these things stem from our relationship to the Earth, from which we're so far removed. Recent momentum behind movements in organic food and clean living has re-exposed a good number of people to this connection but we still have a long way to go, especially when these movements experience direct competition and interference from other trends and developments.
Uranus in Taurus insists that we can manufacture new forms of protein and bypass certain biological functions and shows us how this is possible. But the North Node in Taurus asks us to consider whether this is actually in our best interest, or the best interest of the earth as a whole. It begs us to look at the role of consumption in every aspect of our lives and consider our relationship with resources.
And if we're looking carefully, the South Node in Scorpio may show us exactly how these things have been manipulated for control.
Scorpio operates in the depths, often completely hidden from sight. Born of the waters of chaos, it's able to strategize expertly and win games others don't even realize they're playing. Traditionally the battlefield of Mars, Scorpio was placed under the rulership of underworld king Pluto after its discovery and integration, emphasizing its focus on power and control.
And this isn't to say it's all bad--judgement terms are wholly human. The cosmos simply are. In its elevated expressions, Scorpio represents all the mystery and wonder of life unseen--the stirring in the womb, the revelations of death, the occult magic of ancient mysteries. But it's easier to find these associations in personal transits. When we examine the world at large, a point of so many paths and souls converged, it's fare more difficult to elevate.
The South Node is the Dragon's Tail, the point at which we see the chaos and rubble left unacknowledged and with our eyes firmly on Taurean ideals of luxury and consumption, it makes sense that we've missed the way we fall prey to these same concepts. It's worth noting that Scorpio is also the sign of Other People's Money, an association we can see in the aftermath of the wealth transfer experienced over the last few years. While millions of people watched their bank accounts drain and livelihoods fall apart, the engineers of our consumer addictions multiplied their fortunes with our cash.
What's shocking is that we gave it to them.
It's come to a point where we no longer consume to live--we live to consume. We work jobs we despise in order to fuel our spending habits, we overpay for housing in order to be close to entertainment or modern conveniences, we overlook nutrition for trendy diets and the luxury of not cooking ourselves. None of this is condemnation--advertising and social conditioning has convinced us that we need to live this way, that if we can we should.
My ancestors came from rural farming communities. When they arrived in America and found their place in industrial society, it was a mark of status and success to eat processed foods or prepare recipes collected through corporate cookbooks and brand loyalty programs. They acquired and accumulated modern gadgets and tied their identities to corporate entities through company employment. By the time I was born, my home was full of their belongings--long after they were dead.
As I've navigated pregnancy, preparing to bring the next generation of this line into the world, I've had to consider the role of consumption in new ways. And while others have tried to convince me I need five different car seats and strollers for every terrain, when I think about my child's life I have a very clear, very different picture. I see guiding hands and supportive arms and so many teachable moments--when to prepare garden beds, how to make bread, how to mend a shirt... I see rolling hills bursting with the bounty of nature, ripe fruits and vegetables hanging low, ready for harvest.
My ancestors decided it was more important to own objects that reflected the identity of success and acceptance. They decided that convenience and modernity was more important than self-reliance and skill. Instead of connecting to the land and to community, they connected to technology and corporations.
But it's time to reconsider.
Maybe when Klaus Schwab said you'll own nothing and be happy, he was right--but it won't come through renting the same meaningless consumer existence. It will come from living in harmony with the land, recognizing nature as a living entity, and cultivating a relationship with negative space.
We still have a year and a half of the North Node in Taurus and another four years of Uranus in Taurus, but my dearest hope is that instead of using this time to develop more things to buy, we actually consider the effects of these technologies on our lives and identities. Instead of continuing to hand over our money--and our power--we return to the luxuries of the natural world.
It's time to reclaim our identities, free of the things we own.
Disentangle and breathe freely.
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